Family Time
by SilverDropsOfPlatinumInTheRain
Summary: Why had they agreed to it? Who had managed to make them agree to it in the first place? Some questions just can't be answered. Arthur sighed. Spending a week with your brothers for 'bonding' suddenly didn't seem like a good idea. Then again, when was it?
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! This is a fic I decided to try. Tell me what you think. I would prefer reviews and no flames. Constructive criticism, however, is welcomed. **

**Arthur = England**

**Allistor = Scotland,**

**Faolan =N. Ireland**

**Gavyn = Wales**

**Fianna = S. Ireland (she's only mentioned)**

**Please review!**

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><p>It was a normal, noisy, headache inducing day in the Kirkland household. England was his usual grumpy self at the fact that his brothers were here again. You see, England and the others had agreed to staying with each other for a week every year to spend time together. And to try bonding, but that was a whole other thing.<p>

The day had been going badly so far, and it was only eight in the morning! Arthur had woken up to hear different accents floating up from his kitchen, and had immediately tried to go back to sleep. Unfortunately, sleep evaded him and he was forced to go downstairs to greet his brothers. They acknowledged him heartily, all of them seated around the kitchen with weary looks on their faces. The Englishman felt a bit sorry for them having to come to his house at this time in the morning, but was secretly glad it wasn't at Faolan's house. That had been a _horror._ Anyways, returning to the situation at hand, Arthur gave his brothers a once over, snorting and moving to the stove.

"Tea?" he asked.

"Aye."

"Oes."

"Sēa."

The youngest brother sighed, a small smile twitching his lips as he put the tea on, glancing at his unusually quiet older brothers.

"Why are you all so quiet?" he finally asked, seating himself on the counter. Yes, _on the counter._ While Arthur was a gentleman in front of other nations, he knew that in front of his brothers, he was still considered a child. So he could act that way too. They wouldn't blink an eyelid if he started wearing his punk clothes either. They were just so…._used_ to his other side. _Alfred would probably burst an artery if he saw me in my punk clothes and with all the piercings_, thought England dryly, watching his brother as he swung his legs. Scotland yawned, messing up his hair. Arthur took the time to study each one of his brothers. They looked the same as always.

Allistor Kirkland, otherwise known as Scotland, was an imposing red head. He had a bit more mass than Arthur and was a bit taller than him too. But even with that 'mass' he was still rather toned. His eyes were a darkish green, like the depths of a murky lake or something similar to that. His red hair was a constant mess and almost like the Englishman's own hair. He was also England's oldest brother.

Next came North Ireland, or Faolan Kirkland. He was a bit shorter than Scotland and younger too. But still older than the Englishman. His hair was a lighter shade of red and his eyes were a bright…clover green. His hair was rather straight and almost covered his ears, with the longest hitting the nape of his neck. The red hair also fell into his eyes a lot which usually meant he kept blowing it out of his face or just running a hand through it in an attempt to keep it back. His right ear had a piercing on the ridge and was usually decorated with a small silver hoop. Today was the same. For some reason, his twin sister, South Ireland also known as Fianna, rarely came to Arthur's house. He assumed it was because of the fact that they didn't get along well. But really, who could tell what was going on in a woman's mind?

And lastly, Wales or Gavyn Kirkland. He was the second youngest and resembled Arthur the most. He had a darker shade of blond hair and his eyes were a hazel green. He was short, as short as England, and pretty skinny too. England thought he had lost some weight. His blond hair was short and scruffy, rather like England's and was a constant mess from having a hand run through it so many times. The Brit noted that the one family resemblance they all had in common was the trademark eyebrows.

Allistor yawned again before replying.

"Joost a bi' tired. Didnae think ye o' all people widwantae know wha' 'appened."

England felt his grin return at that accent. He didn't hide the grin, turning around as the kettle whistled to pour tea for everyone.

"Ah, I rather missed that horrendous accent of yours," he commented lightly, bringing the cups and saucers to the table and setting one down in front of each of his siblings. Ireland chuckled, taking a sip of his tea and humming as he leaned back.

"Thank ya. I'm bajanxed," he said, a small smile playing on his lips. Arthur seated himself at the kitchen table, humming as he eyed his brothers and nodding at Faolan. There was a peaceful (surprisingly) silence during which they all quietly drank their tea. Then there was a loud grumble from someone's stomach. Three pairs of eyebrows raised and one particular dark haired blond winced, sighing.

"I'm hungry." England snorted.

"Thank you for stating the obvious," he said, rolling his eyes as he stood up to make something to eat. Faolan chuckled and mumbled something that sounded an awful lot like 'someone's narky'. Wales rolled his eyes too, leaning back in his chair and running a hand through his hair.

"It was my pleasure."

If there was one thing Arthur hated about Gavyn, then it was that they both were too alike. And they both were usually rather sarcastic. But he would be joking if he didn't say he rather enjoyed it at times. He threw a smirk at the other blond and focused on the two red heads.

"You know your rooms. Don't mess them up," he said, walking outside.

About an hour later, there were the sounds of multiple showers and curses floating through the house. England sighed at the assorted curses, all in different accents and sometimes languages.

"Oi! Gavyn! I know ya took mah razor!" snapped a heavily accented Scottish voice. There was a laugh from another bathroom.

"No I didn't! Honestly, I don't even need yer razor! I've got my own!" came the welsh reply.

"Can't both you poofs shut up and let me pull me wire?" called Faolan. There was a short silence in which Arthur choked furiously and flushed.

"Don't shout those kinds of things out like that!" he called out just as his other trwo brother replied too.

"An' 'e calls me a wanker!"

"Shut up brodyr!" came another shout. England sighed and groaned, leaning his head back.

What had he gotten himself into?

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><p><strong>Poofs- Gays<strong>

**Pull me wire - wanking**

**Brodyr - brothers**

**Reviews please? m(_ _)m**

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	2. Chapter 2

**Hi guys! Here's the next chapter! Sorry for the delay! Reviews please!**

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><p>There was a cacophony of noises in the house as all the United Kingdom brothers rushed into the kitchen. Everyone wanted to make something first and everyone wanted England to <em>get the bloody hell away from the stove! <em>The youngest brother sighed, glowering at his older brothers who were arguing over what to make.

"-Wha' do ye mean tha' haggis cannae be made? I-"

"-but Ulster Fry would-"

"-I still think we should have a rarebit-"

England sighed again, massaging his temples before taking a deep breath.

"SHUT YOUR TRAPS! WE'RE GETTING NOWHERE LIKE THIS!" he roared, effectively silencing his older brothers. There was a short silence before Allistor started chuckling, then chuckling turned to laughter and soon enough all the brothers were laughing. Why, they had no idea.

"I want a sanger," remarked Ireland after he had finally controlled himself, leaning comfortably against the counter and crossing his arms. Wales took the opportunity to take out cheese from the fridge, sniffing it before letting a smile take over his face.

"At least you learned how to get good cheese, eh Arthur? I can make a proper rarebit with this," said the Welshman with delight. Scotland snorted and tried shoving Gavyn away, glaring at him and snatching the cheese out of his hands.

"I ken make it tae!"

"An old broom knows the dirty corners best," said Faolan wisely. There was a short silence before England raised an eyebrow.

"And exactly _how_ does this relate to the conversation, dear brother?"

"It doesn't have to."

"Did you just call me an old broom?" demanded Gavyn with a slightly irritated look on his face.

"No. You called yourself that."

Another argument broke out which the youngest and the oldest Kirklands decided to sit out.

"What do you think, rashers?" asked Arthur, looking at his Scottish brother with slight amusement. The redhead shrugged, watching his other two brothers fight.

"Sure. Joost make it good."

"Don't worry."

England smirked and set to work, taking out meat from the fridge and a knife. At this point, Faolan and Gavyn came to a terse agreement and looked at their little brother who was calmly slicing strips of meat.

"What are you _doing?" _they both demanded at the same time. The Englishman looked up from his cooking, raising his eyebrows and jerking his head towards the clock.

"Its ten and I really want you to have breakfast. Plus, if you all starve then it won't be upholding the honor of our agreement, would it?"

"And he knows about honor now," remarked Wales, warily eyeing the food which seemed to be perfectly fine. "Why didn't that burn?"

"Not everything I make burns. People just exaggerate."

"Blwdi brilliant," replied the other blond, thickening his welsh accent. Arthur snorted and shoved the pieces of bacon onto different plates, pushing said plates towards his brothers.

"Right. Eat up. I'll be in the garden." And then he was gone. Allistor stared after the youngest Kirkland in shock before snorting.

"Doesn't quit his womanly 'abits does 'e?" he asked. Faolan chuckled and stabbed a piece of the bacon, eyeing it warily before popping it in his mouth. Brilliant as always. Not that he'd ever admit it out loud. Oh _hell no_. Gavyn chewed on his food before glancing out the window.

"Where did brawd go?"

"Trimming his roses, probably," remarked the Irish nation easily. They all ate in silence until it became too much. "How come the little gobdaw won't talk to us?" he grumbled, "Weren't we supposed ta be spending time with each other?"

As much as all the brothers hated to admit it, they all enjoyed the times they met together. They could act normally, fight and have their sibling tussles. And of course there were times when they got to stand up for each other and become one _united_family and then beat someone else up. It was truly bliss.

Just as they had thought this, England came back inside, running a hand through his hair.

"It's raining," he said glumly. They all looked outside, and sure enough it was raining cats and dogs. Ireland groaned, face palming and putting the dishes in the sink.

"Got any ideas?" he asked. There was a silence and then England sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"I'm going to go change," he mumbled, grumbling and stomping up the stairs. They all watched him leave with raised eyebrows. Before anyoe could say anything, the doorbell rang, making them all jump and turn to the door. After a near silent game of rock-paper-scissors to see who would open the door ("You arse! You cheated! How the bloody hell does paper beat rock?" "It just does! Its the rules!" "Oh yeah? Next time I'll throw a rock at you and let some scrap of paper protect you!") and Wales was unaffectionately shoved to the door. The Welshman grumbled and opened the door, grimacing as he came about face-to-face with a man. The man was grinning forcefully and holding a bag.

"Hello! I'm from the Vac-"

"We don't need anything," interrupted Wales, shutting the door in the man's face and returning to the living room where both his older brothers were arguing about why paper beat rock. They were theorizing about the paper being magic, when England returned, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt which had four flags stamped around it, each of one of his brothers. The youngest slumped into the room, flipping over to the rug near the fireplace and lying down next to the fire Scotland had started up, resting on his stomach with his arms crossed in front of him and his head resting sideways in the crook of his elbow.

"Bloody hell, I'm feeling quite weary," he mumbled, his eyes drooping close. His older brothers were seated on the ground too, staring blankly at the fire. There was a calm silence and soon Arthur's snores filled the air. Allistor slowly ran a hand through his youngest brother's hair, letting his caring side out. The Englishman relaxed in his sleep, mumbling something. Faolan smiled lightly, watching him sleep. There was an almost brotherly and peaceful environment. And then…

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" asked Gavyn with a smirk. They all opted for evil looks as hey eyed their brother.

Yep, peacefulness in the Kirkland family just couldn't last long enough.

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><p><strong>Sorry it took so long to update. Anyways, this chapter wasn't much, I know, but I'll start the main thing from the next chapter. Please review!<strong>

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	3. Chapter 3

**Hey guys! Thanks for all the reviews! Please continue supporting me and I shall keep updating for you! Love y'all!**

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><p>When England's mind slowly kicked into consciousness, the first thing he noticed was that it was chilly…. in the downstairs department. The next thing he noticed was that his head felt heavy. He groaned and slowly opened his eyes, blinking wearily and pushing himself up. He let out another groan, rubbing his head and blinking again. That's when he noticed what he was wearing.<p>

"ALLISTOR!" he hollered, jumping up and glaring down at the kilt he seemed to be wearing. That's when he felt the beret on his head. He let out a growl and stomped to the nearest mirror, glaring at himself. He had been dressed in a dark green kilt, white shirt, plaid beret and black boots. The boots were actually the only things he liked out of the outfit. And, well, the beret wasn't half bad… He heard a snicker behind himself and turned around, feeling a low breeze on his legs as he did so. _Where are my boxers…?_

It was Faolan.

"Ireland? What did you do to me?" he asked slowly in an attempt to not strangle his brother. The redhead shrugged, eyeing his little brother before allowing a small smile onto his face.

"It was Allistor's idea. Just a little bit of magic, you know."

"You look a bit paish," supplied another voice. England turned his head to glare at Wales, narrowing his eyes as he scowled.

"You and your stupid welsh! You just called me effeminate!" he snapped. The Welshman smirked then shrugged, crossing his arms and eyeing his brother properly.

"Well, what can I say? You're looking a bit of a Mary Jane."

"I don't see you saying that to Allistor."

"He's a brute. I can't really try saying that to him without getting into another argument."

"He's a gurrier. But Arthur, you have to admit, you look pretty good in the kilt. You'll have to be wide if you're going out today. The stubble might attract you some brassers."

"Stubble?" Here Arthur paused to run a hand over his chin. And sure enough, he could feel the tiny prickles of hair growing on his face. He groaned.

"I always shave. How the bloody hell did a beard start growing on me?" he asked, looking at his face carefully in the mirror. There were hints of gold around his chin where the stubble was growing. _Great. Abso-bloody-lutely great. _He growled and lowered his hand, scowling at his reflection in the mirror before turning around.

Allistor appeared into the room, breaking out into a laugh.

"Look at ye!" he gasped out, chuckling and tilting his head to one side to study his brother. Arthur crossed his arms.

"You enchanted the kilt, didn't you? It's going to stay on," he grumbled. Scotland nodded before smirking.

"Don't look so fair affronted. Ye don' look 'alf bad."

"I'm wearing a bloody _skirt!_"

"It's a _kilt_!"

There was a pause as they glared at each other. Faolan broke the silence with a snicker.

"Hey, Artie, didn't you have to go to buy something for your bird?"

"I don't have a girlfriend."

"That's right. You're as straight as a bendy straw."

"Oh belt up."

Gavyn cackled and dived for the phone, yelping as Arthur tackled him to the ground.

"Not letting you inform anyone, git!" growled Arthur. The Welshman snickered and slithered out from under his brother, grabbing the phone and dialing a number quickly. Arthur rushed at him, but was unfortunately held up as both his other brothers held him back.

"_Salut Angleterre! What 'appened?" _asked the voice. Wales hid his snickers and cleared his throat.

"Oi! Frenchie! I suggest you come to Artie's home right now, if you want to see something interesting!" he called, slamming the phone shut and grinning as England groaned and quit struggling. Almost fifteen minutes later there was a knock on the door and eager shouting of French words. Allistor chuckled evilly and went to open the door, making sure Ireland and Wales could hold England by themselves. He could. Scotland opened the door and grinned at France, clapping him on the back and ignoring his confusion in favor of leading him to England. The Englishman was seated at the table, sipping a cup of tea. Francis stared. And stared. And stared. There was a second of silence before he slowly drifted forwards and touched the kilt, running his hand over the rough material, and indirectly over Arthur's thigh.

"Christmas came early," he whispered to himself before a wide grin took over his face. "Arthurr! _Mon dieu! Tu es tellement sexy en ca! Qui t'as fait porter ca? Je dois le remercier mantenant! J'ai envie de dechirer tes vetements et-" _**[Oh my god! You are really sexy in this! Who made you wear it? I have to thank them right now! I really feel like ripping you clothes off and-] **Arthur cut him off with an elbow to the gut. While Francis doubled over, heaving in breaths, the Brit glared at him.

"Not another word, frog! My brothers cursed me in this-this _skirt!_"

"_Mais, _you look really-"

"I don't care, France! Honestly, I look like a woman! I might as well hold a handbag!"

"Or a satchel," offered Ireland with a smirk. England frowned then agreed. Satchels were the bane of masculinity. France had recovered his breath and was staring at the kilt with an awed expression. His thoughts were something like this: '_what a beautiful way to make a man wear a skirt yet not lose his masculinity! Ah, if only Angleterre wore it more often!'_

Meanwhile, another fight had broken out between the brothers, this time about who would cook lunch and what they would have. England and Wales wanted fish and chips. But unfortunately, Ireland wanted a Dublin Lawyer and Scotland wanted a Cullen Skink. Needless to say, Francis took this opportunity to slide his hand under England's kilt and thrill at the feel before England turned around and socked him. Right in the face. The Frenchman stumbled back, grinning as he rubbed his face. There was hardly a bruise on him.

"Froggy bastard! Trying to feel me up in the middle of my _kitchen _with my _brothers _around!" he shouted. All the Kirkland brothers looked at Francis curiously before cracking up. And mumbling death threats at the same time.

"Oh! Haha! Fr-Francis! I swear I'll k-kill you if you try to feel Artie up again!" laughed out Faolan. Arthur simply glared and shoved his empty teacup away, going over to the kitchen.

"I should've killed them when I had the chance."

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><p><strong>Well? Sorry for the long loooooong update. Do you like it? review please!<strong>

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	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys! Sorry for the long update. It seems that I've been apologizing an awful lot considering that I can't write anymore with my substitute muse. He's not really a helpful person. Anywho, I bring to you, the fourth chapter! Enjoy!**

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><p>Having the UK brothers and one perverted Frenchman in the same place was not a good idea. Something was just bound to happen. And that something would probably be awkward, embarrassing and would make the kind of story you don't want to tell your kids about when you're older in fear that they try to disown you or get chagrined on your behalf. And if one of the brothers was in an enchanted <em>kilt<em> then that was trouble just waiting to happen. But, the said brothers and said Frenchman, were pretty used to these situations and had decided to gang up on Arthur. After all, he was the one wearing the kilt.

"_Ohononononon_! Come on, _chou,_ let me lick zat beautiful face of yours!"

"Bloody _hell_! That was disgusting, frog! Stay well away from me, or so help me I will kick your arse all-"

"Now, now, don't threaten the guest," cooed Gavyn from his spot on the sofa. He was watching the two blonds argue with interest. Arthur whipped his scathing glare on his brother and was about to snap out something rather nasty when Faolan interrupted.

"And don't talk like that about our little Artie like that. Makes me want to throw up. I know he's a fine bit of stuff, but just don't talk about him like that in front of us."

Arthur grumbled, annoyed that his brothers weren't saving him from this _torture_.

"Hump off," growled the Englishman, looking a bit shocked after he used the Irish term. Ireland, on the other hand, was looking quite proud. The moment was ruined by Francis raising an eyebrow, looking greatly amused and slightly perverted.

"'ump off, you say? _Excellent_. _Mais_, I 'ave to admit, I did not zink you would say zat to me in front of your brozers," said France with a perverted grin. Arthur's face took on a look of horror as he turned red at what he had just said.

"I'm scarlet for you," chimed Ireland, looking slightly amused and pitying. England's eyes narrowed and he turned to glare ferociously at the blue-eyed blond in the room.

"Francis, _make one more perverted comment and I will not hesitate to rip your bloody balls out and shove them up your bleedin'-_" Whatever graphic description he had been about to provide was once again interrupted. This time by the Scottish nation.

He raised an eyebrow at the youngest brother and gave him a slightly amused yet disdainful look.

"Arthur, 'e's our guest. Dinnae insult him on my watch."

England was practically seething. He glowered at everyone and stood up, stalking over to the kitchen and mumbling something about tea. Allistor looked after him with a smirk and then turned to the others.

"Any ideas to rile him up?" he asked lowly. Ireland and Wales grinned too, adopting thoughtful looks as they mused. France smirked faintly.

"You all really _do_ annoy little _Angleterre. _I always zhought 'e exaggerated about your family weeks."

"Oh, we've twisted hay lots of times," dismissed Ireland, glancing towards the kitchen as he thought of what to do. Scotland snorted.

"We've gotten intae more than a wee stooshie."

"A bit of a job," agreed Wales. There was a short silence as everyone thought of ideas. England chose that moment to re-enter, looking around at all the nations suspiciously.

"I'm very worried that its been so quiet. What are you all planning?" he asked, eyes narrowed and gaze flickering between all the familiar green eyes and the lone blue pair. France smirked.

"Nozing, _cher_. You suspect razer easily. I am wounded you would even zink zat I would be planning somezing."

"You _always_ plan something, frog. And usually its against me. I have this strange feeling you're all planning together."

"Then you should be afraid, shouldn't you?" asked Gavyn with an evil looking grin. Arthur shuddered slightly and set teacups down, along with a plate of biscuits before exiting the room.

"If you're planning something, then I'm calling reinforcements!"

The Irishman cursed, setting his tea down and glaring at the doorway.

"If he calls my sister, I swear I will bloody kill him slowly and painfully," he growled. The Frenchman was more than confused.

"I zhought she 'ated 'im."

"Oh she does. But when she gets to help him against us she's all up for it."

There was a short silence as everyone strained their ears to hear what was going on. There was a respective silence in the living room. And then…

"Kyle, get your arse here. And bring your weapons."

The family in the kitchen gawked at each other for a second before Ireland gave a groan.

"Fecking hell! I didn't bring anything with me! Its all your fault, Allistor. Now that Aussie brat is going to come here too."

"He wouldnae dare…"

"And bring some milk on your way home. I think we ran out."

"Aw feck."

Wales grinned.

"I got my spell books," he sing-songed. The other two brothers grinned and rushed away with the Welshman, preparing for the battle that was sure to pursue. Arthur was grinning in the living room, whispering away a battle plan. Francis looked around the house in confusion.

"Well, zis is definitely _intéressant._"

England came back into the kitchen, a smirk on his face as he took his seat, lifting his teacup up to his lips, glancing at Francis and smirking even more.

"I suggest you leave before we start. You're more than welcome to stay, though. But if you do, then you're either with me or against me," he said sipping his tea. Francis swallowed. The look England had given him didn't seem to be very pleasant.

"Let the games begin."

"And may ze odds be ever in your favor."

"Honestly? The Hunger Games?"

"Couldn't 'elp it, _cher_."

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><p><strong>So, what do you think? Good? Bad? Okay? Please review!<strong>

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	5. Chapter 5

**So…late update, I know. I hope this short chapter makes up for the late update. I hope you enjoy it. (And yes, I will be trying to update this faster.)**

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><p>"Die Arthur! Die!" shouted Wales, ducking as a duck was thrown at his head. Ireland pointed his hand out from behind the tree he was hiding, shooting out a ray of green light at the undefended Francis. The Frenchman yelped and pressed himself against the boulder he was behind, glancing up once to throw an apple – with surprising accuracy – towards Scotland. The Scottish man bellowed in a war-like fashion and threw a bolt of magic towards Australia. The Australian laughed loudly.<p>

"You all will be eating Vegemite after this! I can't believe you never invite me over to your get-togethers!"

"There's a reason for that!" called out England, shooting out a frog from his wand, which landed right on Ireland's face. The Irishman let out a squeal and shoved t away. Wales stepped out, waving his staff around.

"**Die wankers**!" he shouted, shooting out a bolt of sparkles (rainbow ones) into the air. Arthur and Kyle let out matching laughs from where they were hidden. Francis sort of cowered.

"Nice staff, Gavyn! You compensating for something?" called England cheekily.

To understand why we are where we are, let's go back a few hours.

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><p><em>There was a graveyard-like silence that had descended upon the house since the challenge had been tossed out. Well, it wasn't a challenge, per se. A sort of violent sibling rivalry thing. Which involved magic. And weapons. And possibly blood.<em>

_Francis watched Arthur pace, looking worried for the man's sanity. A minute ago the Englishman had been staring at his wand and cackling away. It was slightly…disconcerting. _

"_They've probably got the magic books out. I really should have hidden them away. I wonder if they brought their weapons. I swear if Faolan brought his…" Arthur muttered under his breath, still pacing and occasionally glancing out of the window. France decided to take a chance._

"_Why are we waiting for Australie?"_

"_Hmmm? Oh, because he's coming with my reinforcements."_

"_And what's zat?"_

"_Vegemite. And possibly his snake."_

_France freaked out a bit, internally of course._

"_Are you sure zat's safe?"_

"_Who said anything about safe? They're probably going to try to kill me. Why should I go easy?"_

_A knock on the door sounded out, making England beam and rush down the stairs. Throwing the door open, he was greeted by a tall blond, skin tanned darkly and green eyes bright. _

"_G'day Mum!" he greeted enthusiastically, dropping the milk he brought and catching the Brit in a surprised kind of hug, lifting him off his feet. Arthur looked vaguely embarrassed at the fact that he was shorted than his ex-colony. Australia squeezed the older blond until he hugged back, albeit grudgingly._

"_Hello Kyle. Now put me down, you big git. This is hardly a decent."_

"'_Course it is. I'm giving me mum a hug," pouted the Australian, putting England down carefully and grinning, lifting the milk up._

"_I brought the milk."_

"_So I see. Come on in. we've got some time to sort things out before we have to relocate."_

"_Relocate?" asked Francis, sending a smile to the Australian before shifting his cerulean eyes back to Arthur. The Englishman nodded, putting the milk away and turning to his two allies._

"_I have a plan."_

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><p><em>The plan didn't really go…well, according to plan.<em>

"_There might be some errors in translation from paper to real life!" called out Kyle as he dodged a glittering pink hammer that had been shot at him. The hammer smashed into a tree and promptly exploded into pink. The poor tree looked ready for Valentine's. _

"_Really? I hadn't noticed!" replied England sarcastically, barking out a spell and making Scotland's kilt try to fly. No one really wanted to see the view they were shown. Seems like the whole 'nothing under kilt' thing was true after all. Allistor made a nearby tree reach out to Kyle and pull him._

"_Zis is not fun! 'Ow do you do zis every time you visit?" asked France, a wok over his head in an attempt to protect it and a bag of crab apples at his feet. He lobbed one out at Ireland, barely managing to avoid it as it came back to attack him. It even had little teeth. _

"_Mum! This tree's a pervert!" shouted Kyle, breaking free of the tree's grasp and whistling at his koala. It let out an evil sounding screech and leaped for Wales' eyes. The Welshman cursed and shoved it away from himself, making it into a flower. _

_A girl rushed into the garden, looking around worriedly._

"_Mr Kirkland? I heard noises and I-" She was abruptly cut off as a line of gold hit her chest. She let out an ear-piercing scream as her clothes started dissolving slowly. The brothers didn't really notice it. She ran off._

"_God Faolan! I didn't know you wanted me naked!" shouted England, nimbly sidestepping a spell and grinning. There was a laugh from the Irishman._

"_Trust me, Art. I have no interest in seeing your whitewashed skin and skinny arse."_

"_Hey!"_

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><p>Which leads us back to the situation at hand. Gavyn let out a roar. His manliness had been questioned!<p>

"Take that back!"

"Never!"

There was a scary muttering of words and then a burst of light that tossed everyone back a good few steps. Once it cleared it revealed a rather amusing sight.

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><p>"Shut up," grumbled Gavyn, glaring resolutely at the table. Arthur was doing the same thing, staring hard at his tea. Faloan snorted, unable to stop the chuckle from escaping. Kyle had given up on propriety and was doubled over laughing, his face red from his mirth. Francis had excused himself to go to the bathroom. Apparently that had been too funny. Allistor was wheezing in breaths, banging on the table like it was supposed to help.<p>

"It's not funny," added Arthur. He and his brother went largely ignored. They both glanced at each other and let out twin winces. Erupting from their sandy hair were pairs of donkey's ears, twitching slightly.

"I hate you," grumbled Arthur, returning his glare to his tea.

"I hate you too," replied Gavyn just as seriously.

"And I love this! It's going on that social networking thing, you know, Tweeter and FaceWall," laughed Faolan.

* * *

><p><strong>So? What do you think? Good? Bad? Okay? Please review! I really do enjoy them even if I don't personally reply to each. (And let's face it, that might get to be a bit creepy.)<strong>

**Review?**

**.:|Silver|:.**


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